"Why six only, captain?" said an old seaman. "Give the word, and any and all of us will go up with you, sack the house, and bring off the treasure and the lady before two hours are out!"
"No, no, my brave lads! As for treasure, it is sure to have been put all safe into the forts; and, as for the lady, God forbid that we should force her a step without her own will."
The boat with Frank, Amyas, and the six seamen reached the pebble beach. There seemed no difficulty about finding the path to the house, so bright was the moon. Leaving the men with the boat, they started up the beach, with their swords only.
"She may expect us," whispered Frank. "She may have seen our ship, and some secret sympathy will draw her down towards the sea to-night."
They found the path, which wound in zig-zags up the steep, rocky slope, easily. It ended at a wicket-gate, and they found the gate was open when they tried it.
"What is your plan?" said Amyas.
"I have none. I go where I am called--love's willing victim."
Amyas was at his wits' end. A light was burning in a window on the upper story; twenty black figures lay sleeping on the terrace.
Frank saw the shadow of the Rose against the window. She came down, and he made a wild appeal to her.
"Your conscience! Your religion--"